


All You Need Now Is a Village People Hat

by titaniumsporkery



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-03 23:38:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titaniumsporkery/pseuds/titaniumsporkery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray watches too much SNL, and Brad can't get a moment's peace with him around. Based on this skit http://vimeo.com/54415061 . (Birthday gift for colbertesque.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	All You Need Now Is a Village People Hat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [folignos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/folignos/gifts).



“Hey girl, I got somethin’ real important to give you, so just sit down and listen.”

Brad frowned at his closed bedroom door, beyond which there was the distinct sound of Ray Person Being Up to No Good. “Ray,” he warned, “Whatever it is you’re doing, don’t.”

Ray responded to this by raising his voice as he sang, violently out of tune. “Girl, you know we’ve been together such a long time,” he crooned, “wow, you know it’s christmas and my heart is open wiiiiiiiiiiiide--”

“Christmas is in three weeks you goat-fucked idiot,” shouted Brad, to no avail.

“Gonna give you something so you know what’s on my mind,” wailed Ray, “a gift so special, so take off the top.” Ray slammed the door open, revealing his too-skinny, too-tattooed naked form, save for-- “take a look inside, IT’S MY DICK IN A BOX”--yep, that was about the long and short of it, pun intended.

Brad put his face in his hands, wondering what on earth went wrong in his life that it was a Saturday night, and rather than being left alone to his trashy spy novel, he had a skinny corporal who was wearing nothing but a violently beribboned gift box and shrieking the lyrics to an SNL skit at him.

Ray danced his way over to the bed (in the limited sense that “dancing” applied to what he was doing; there was no tune to his caterwauling, and essentially what he was doing was walking in a zigzag towards the bed and punctuating each turn with hip thrusts).

“Ray, for fuck’s sake stop you’re besmirching the good name of the US Marine Corps.”

Ray ignored him in favor of clambering onto the bed, waddling awkwardly up to Brad on his knees, and thrusting his dick-box in Brad’s face.

“Not gonna get you a house in the hills, a girl like you needs somethin’ real. Wanna get you somethin’ from the heart (somethin’ special, girl). IT’S MY DICK IN A BOX,” he shrieked, with a particularly sharp thrust whacking Brad in the nose with a corner of the box. “MY DICK IN A BOX, BABE.”

“Person, if you don’t take that off you’re not getting laid for the next year I swear to God.”

“You’re an atheist, Brad, and don’t even pretend you’re not turned on as fuck right now.” said Ray, before continuing his wailing, “It’s my dick in a box, ooooh, my dick in a box girl. See I’m wise enough to know when a gift needs givin, and I got just the one--”

“Right,” said Brad, “This is coming off. Now.” He reached for the box, ignoring Ray’s “nonono, no Brad WAIT NO BRAD WAIT,” and yanked the box, and it came off with a loud, satisfying rip, which … come to think of it, Brad wasn’t expecting.

Ray let out a yell and rolled over on the bed, curling up into the fetal position with his hands on his groin. “YOU DUMB MOTHERFUCKER IT WAS TAPED ON FUCK THAT HURTS FUCK SHIT YOU STUPID FUCK HOW DID YOU EXPECT IT TO STAY ON,” he screamed, voice muffled by the comforter.

“I don’t now,” said Brad, trying hard not to betray sympathy for Ray’s plight, “I guess I just expected your dick to be big enough to hold up a cardboard box. In retrospect, I don’t know why I expected that, as I have seen your dick, and it is shriveled in the way that only generations of trailer-trash inbreeding can provide for.”

Ray hissed out a sharp “Fuck you, Colbert.” He pulled his hand away to inspect the damage. “BRAD THERE’S A FUCKING CHUNK MISSING. FUCK. LOOK AT THIS.” He sat up shakily, pointing at a perfectly square patch of white skin right above his dick, surrounded by thick, curly dark hair. Brad turned over the box in his hand, finding a large piece of packing tape on the back, covered in pubic hair. He laughed.

“Well,” said Brad, “Now your dick is reverse Hitler,” and then he burst into riotous laughter. Ray launched himself at him, biting Brad hard on the nose. Brad laughed more and rolled them both over, retaliating by biting Ray’s chin, which got him a shrieked “OW, you motherfucker” and a sharp punch to the stomach.

 

A short while later, after the scuffle and the requisite fucking, Brad lay in bed, boneless and comfortable, listening to Ray cleaning himself off in the bathroom. At least, that’s what he thought Ray was doing, but there was some buzzing and high-pitched giggling happening that was suspicious.

“Ray? What’s going on in there?” All he got in answer was another high giggle. Brad shook his head resignedly, lamenting his choice to live with the whirlwind of insanity that was his RTO. Eventually, Ray came back into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, grinning idiotically.

“Are you ready, Brad? Are you ready, this is my fucking masterpiece, the greatest piece of art on earth, and you’re in fucking luck I like you enough to fucking give you an advance sneak peek before I unleash it on the entirety of San Diego County.”

“No,” Brad groaned, but still sat up on his elbows to get a better view. Ray dropped his towel, laughing raucously, to reveal that he had shaved, gelled and shaped the remainder of his pubes into a rather impressive fu manchu.

“I told you, Brad, it’s fucking genius. I’m an artist, a regular motherfuckin Da Vinci.”

Brad stood up and walked over to Ray, leaning to growl into his ear. “Corporal Person, your pubic hair privileges are henceforth revoked.” He then grabbed Ray by the upper arm and steered him back into the bathroom.

“Oh, fuck you, Colbert,” said Ray, but he allowed himself to be pulled along nonetheless. “You’re just lucky I already sent pictures to the whole team.”


End file.
